


Don't Let RPs Go Too Far

by orpheusheart (orphan_account)



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Crack, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-21
Updated: 2014-09-27
Packaged: 2018-01-26 00:31:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1668158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orpheusheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Flat-packed furniture, MTV, and Mean girls the reunion. It’s that kind of a fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter The Zeroth: In which Kaijou suffers mass chronic cognitive dissonance

**Author's Note:**

> It ends when it ends. We ate the plot. Updates when we goddamn feel like it. - Kanoe  
> In which we shouldn’t be allowed to play with our boys like this. But it’s fun, and I like to see my Yukki suffer. - Kitska

—-  
Prior to his third year in Kaijou High, Kasamatsu Yukio considered himself a very patient person. Perhaps overly so, in his own stiff, stoic sort of way that garnered him popularity with his peers, the trust of his basketball teammates and his position as captain.

However, more often than not, life performs miserably at leaving well enough alone. On his last lap of the proverbial marathon that was tertiary education, he found himself tripped up, runners crossing into his lane, batons passing into the wrong hands, and shoelaces coming undone. All at once.

Still, just  _maybe_ , he could have dealt with all that the same way he’d handled every other obstacle thus far. Maybe dealing with freshmen wasn’t going to be such a bad thing after all. But a week after Kise Ryouta and Takao Kazunari found each other, through  _his_  precious basketball team, ‘maybe’ just didn’t seem possible anymore.

In all honesty, Takao alone was fine enough. The boy was an excellent point guard; sharp eyes, even sharper senses, plenty of experience in the bag and decent people skills to boot. One potential replacement for when Kasamatsu graduated. Only the best for his school after all.

Kise, his mafia-esque fanclub aside, also fared quite well on his own when it comes to basketball. His learning curve was exponential, the way the blond lapped up techniques like it was nothing; he made basketball look effortless,  _easy_  even, like flat-packed furniture out of a box. As if it didn’t take the countless hours of soul-crushing practice and hard work that everyone else had already invested.

Yes indeed, on their own, they were both outstanding lads in the prime of their lives. It was just the cock-shriveling way the two  _interacted_  with each other that iffed not only him, but possibly a majority of the entire Kaijou High population, student and staff (spearheaded by the aforementioned fanclub). The Gestalt illusion that decreed the total to be more than the sum of its parts. The potentiation of sheer, tempered bimbocity that seemed impossible to have leaked through the Japanese education system, or for that matter, the human gene pool. There was something about the way both their voices doubled in both Hertz and speed when they were in each others’ presence that, in addition to how ridiculously well their images matched up with their behavior, triggered mass, chronic, cognitive dissonance amongst the team.

"Ka~zu~ _cchi_ ~”

"Ryo~u~ _chan_ ~”

It was a regular greeting between the resident floozies. Kasamatsu swore he could smell the icky sugary disgustingly sweet scent of luminescent pink wafting around the two idiotic freshmen as they gravitated towards each other, giggling like airheads in the clubroom while they prepped,  _noisily_ , for practice. For the next few minutes, the clubroom became worse than the morning fish market, with Takao babbling about what he ate during lunch and how he managed to piss off his English teacher by correcting her pronunciation, while Kise gushed over his latest photoshoot project and how his make up artist recommended this new facial wash that prevents acne even with all the sweating they did on court. Practice itself fared a little better - less idle chatter and more focus on the ball - but once that ended, it was back to the next episode of MTV’s Girl Code featuring Ryoko and Kazumi with more complaining than a George Carlin special and a Taylor Swift album combined.

In view of the circumstances, it would then probably seem natural for Kasamatsu to be plagued by mixed feelings, as he arranged a practice match with Shuutoku High. The school had always boasted a formidable team, perhaps the best in the region. After chatting with a familiar face, one Ootsubo Taisuke, they’d agreed on their eagerness to catch a glimpse of the other schools’ new secret weapon, even test them out if the chance presented itself. With both old-man Genta Takeuchi and Nakatani Masaaki’s blessings, a date was approved, and Kasamatsu all but vibrated with both nervousness and anticipation.

Some part of him felt like he’d pulled a fast one on someone who could loosely be called a long-time rival. There was some form of guilty conscience that reminded him Ootsubo was about to unveil the Shuutoku team’s new secret weapon, whereas what their school had to offer was probably more aptly described as Mean Girls the reunion.

Little did he know that, plot twist, Shuutoku’s trump card was just as much of a chump, as Kise knew only too well.


	2. Chapter the First: In which Takao wouldn’t do it to shake Kanbabachi’s hand.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boob, dick, cum. No, we promise it's PG.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kanoe- Writing this feels like writing a manzai script.  
> Kitska- For two bokes.  
> Kanoe- Precisely.

—-

“Omaigawd Ryou-chan, you’re kidding right?” Takao squealed while kicking off his indoor shoes, with Kise leaning against the shoe locker next to him. The blond, the  _literal_  blond, nodded all too seriously, recalling his glory days in Teikou Middle school.

“For real, they are so long and dark and luscious, ever since first year. I swear, the first time we met I asked him what brand of mascara he used, he asked me what mascara is.”

“Get outta here.”

“Swear on my hair iron.”

“Oh god, you’re serious?”

"My hair iron, Kazucchi."

Takao let out a low whistle. “Freaky.”

"Also he’s a horoscope nerd." Kise paused, nose scrunched up as he tried to recall which radio station it was that Midorima obsessed over. " Always watching this Asa-Ohayo thing and bringing along lucky items even to practice." Truthfully, Kise knew the radio station only  _too_  well, given how their shooting guard had obsessed over it. But it had gone to the point where even the mention of its name gave him bad vibes.

“Man that’s so messed up. He an otaku or something?”

"It’s  _totally_  freaky. I mean, there was once he had a huge stuffed giraffe strapped to his back when he came to school, and he went on this panicky fit when captain said he couldn’t leave it on the bench.”

If face-palming wouldn’t have messed up his hairdo, Takao could have done so. “Where does he even get all that money for stupid lucky items like that?”

Kise shrugged as Takao finally slid on his shoes, and the two of them headed out towards the school gate. “Heard his dad’s a famous doctor or something. Oh, on the next day, he brought along this big-ass ceramic manekineko and almost died when Aominecchi knocked it off the bench with a basketball just for shits.”

"That’s just- wait, you mean there’s a new one every day??"

Kise nodded, and Takao shook his head in disbelief.

"Guy’s a total boob.”

"His hands are  _sooooooooo_  much nicer than mine though. Perfectly manicured every time, and wrapped up when he’s not playing.”

“Omaigawd… that and the lashes thing, is he secretly an okama??”

It was at that point Kise discarded all shits, doubling over and clutching his stomach as his whole body shook with what Takao couldn’t decide was mirth, or the heebie jeebies. When he finally straightened himself enough to face Takao again, there was a trace of moist in the corners of his eyes. “Midorimacchi? An okama? No way in like, ever. He’s so straight, you pole dance with him.”

It was Takao’s turn to scrunch his nose. “From what I’ve heard, I wouldn’t do it to shake Kanbabachi’s hand.”

Despite the practice match being tomorrow, idol gossip soon proved to be more interesting than Kise’s old teammate. The two started on the all too familiar route to Kise’s house, ignoring the blip of walkie talkies from Kise’s deranged semi-covert posse. Once the door was safely shut, Takao made his way upstairs into Kise’s room, specifically the walk-in closet, for something more comfortable to change into.

He searched through the color coded racks of clothing for a few minutes before surrendering to Kise’s closet, yet again. “Ryou-chan, did I leave my ‘Keep calm and go to Hogwarts’ T-shirt at your place? I can’t find it at home.”

Kise, walking into the room with a small tray of snacks and a bottle of vegetable juice under his arm, gave his friend a knowing smirk. “Closet won again huh?”

“Closet 22, Takao-chan 6.” The shorter boy sighed, allowing his host to pull the aforementioned shirt out of a drawer within seconds. “Why do you have to mix all my clothes in with your own? Just empty out one drawer to stash all my stuff.”

Kise gave a pout and tossed the t-shirt to his friend. “But it looks nicer this way, Kazucchi, and I don’t know which drawer to empty out…”

“We’ve been through this Ryou-chan, just combine the bow-tie drawer with the skinny-tie drawer, they’re both half empt-”

“HIPSTER MUST NEVER MIX WITH SMART-CASUAL.”

“RYOU-CHAN PUT THE DEHUMIDIFIER  _DOWN_.”

—-

It was half an hour of chatter later that the boys dragged various assignments from their book bags and began staring blankly at their homework. As little as he cared to admit it, there was one thing on Takao’s mind that refused to subside. He knew all too well about Kise’s modeling career, and if even someone who knew makeup better than most scene girls couldn’t tell if it wasn’t mascara, the hell kind of Bollywood lashes did that Midorima guy have?

“Say, Ryou-chan. You have any photos of your middle school team or something?”

At this, Kise looked up from catching up on today’s lessons; memorizing the textbook. “Hmn… Yeah I have a few, why? Wait- Ew! Ohmaigawd, don’t tell me this is about Midorimacchi.”

“Come on Ryou-chan, even  _you_  thought his lashes were mascara. I’ve  _gotta_  see this.”

“I did not! It was clearly,  _clearly_  sarcasm.”

"Pfft. But seriously, do you?"

"Well, sure I do but…" Takao wasn’t too sure why Kise hesitated; with how early his modeling career began, it couldn’t have been because he was a late bloomer either. Then again there was a little something Kise had let slip weeks ago; the boy’s expression then had been just like the face he was making at that moment.

"Ryou-chan," Takao sang, eyes narrowed in glee, "this has something to do with your middle school crush doesn’t it."

Despite having superb control over his face and expressions for professional photoshoots, in a setting like this, Kise lied as badly as a pre-teen boy caught red handed with porn mags, dick in hand. “No way!! This has nothing to do with Aominecch-“

"Busted."

"… … Don’t tell anyone I beg of you."

“You have my word.”

“I love you Kazucchi.”

Soon enough the photo was forced out of storage, somewhere in the locked right-hand desk drawer. In all honesty, if Takao had scribbled on the photo all around his crush the way Kise had, he’d have wanted to hide the evidence too. “Wow, the umbrella thing even, you had it pretty bad for him eh.”

"Shut up, this one’s Midorimacchi."

"There’re sex sounds here too."

Kise jabbed at the photo, hissing. “MIDORIMACCHI. HERE.”

Satisfied at the squirmy corner he’d forced his best friend into, Takao shifted his attention to the guy with comically green hair. The photo quality wasn’t spectacular, so all Takao could really see was a blur of dark under Midorima’s eyes that made it look as if he did the whole guyliner thing.

Unimpressed, Taka turned back to deciphering the many scribbles around Aomine. “That Midorima guy looks constipated.”

"That’s how he normally looks yanno."

"His parents must be so proud."

Kise rolled his eyes. “Why’re you suddenly so interested in him anyway? Like, you called him a boob, and the whole Kanbabachi handshake thing.”

"I’m not interested. And I meant it. Not even for the B-Cum." Every now and then though, while he was trying to read Kise’s handwriting (just as hyper as he was but not even half as pretty), his eyes kept shifting back to the tall bespectacled figure.

He really did look constipated, what with that “I givest thee no fucks” scowl, and the all too stiff way he stood, how he seemed reluctant and awkward even from a blurry photo. Those narrow eyebrows and rather long, straight nose, thin lips accentuating his frown, the stoic kind of look that oddly made Takao want to tease him more than anything else. Then, Kise did mention his hands… He couldn’t see them very clearly behind the (barely) shorter teammates, but at the very least his fingers were long and slender; not to mention those broad shoulders and wide back. He was tall too, at the very least taller than Kise…

"You’re staring at him Kazucchi."

"I’m reading your hideous chicken scratch Ryou-chan."

"Just so you know, I’ve been covering that for 12 seconds now." The blond smiled, sitting back against his bed and fully enjoying revenge on his smarmy bastard of a best friend. Mind set on fanning the flames, Kise dug around his desk for another photo; a more candid, casual shot of the team. It seemed like the kind of thing that the photography club would’ve snapped for selling, and the real reason why Kise had it was made clear by the tanned figure smack in the middle of the foreground surrounded by glitter-glue hearts.

By chance more than anything, Midorima was clearly in view as well, part of his face carelessly obscured by a pink sticker that, clearly, wasn’t intended for him. “You’re still staring at him Kazucchi.” Kise purred, resting on an arm and idly flipping through their neglected homework.

Takao snorted, taking the photo from his friend. “Here he looks less constipated and more… How should I put it… Intense?”

Kise’s head tilted as he shifted closer, squinting. “How can you even tell the difference?”

“Cause unlike you I don’t focus on only my own face.”

"Hey, this face is on the cover of Zun0n Boys okay."

Takao waved it off and continued staring at the photo. Carefully he picked at the damn sticker, ignoring Kise’s unhinged wails of protest. As more of Midorima’s face was revealed, Takao began forgetting the other things Kise had just told him about the guy not an hour ago. Horoscope nerd, lucky items, hysterical fits… Even those God-awful glasses seemed to suit him in a nonchalant, ironic sort of way, to the point of, well, cuteness. The sort of cuteness you would never admit out loud. To elementary kids. Girls.

Already, Kise couldn’t wait for the practice match scheduled the next day. “Yanno Kazucchi… I can lend you that photo to jerk off with.”

A smirk and the photo flapped back onto the table, Takao grabbing his textbook and flipping it open. “Still won’t do it.”

“Even for Benedryl Candysnatch?”

“Even for Bumdiddily Coomberbutt.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #yes we butchered ben-cum's name #it's all a matter of fun really #if you take offense then I'm sorry #welp I guess this is not the end #it's PG honest


	3. Chapter the Second (Part i): In which zero shits were given for bad analogies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Car bombs, earthquakes, and a 21 gun salute. This is still a basketball anime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kitska: Kobori > Ootsubo, Hayakawa > Kiyoshi, Kise > Midorima? Jfc.  
> Kanoe: Ex b-ball player brother says if playing defense, sic the power forward on Midorima and get a 4-man formation within the home half-court.  
> Kanoe: … And why’re we even discussing this seriously for a crack fic.  
> Kitska: Because it adds to the crack.  
> Kanoe: … Kinda does dunnit.

—-

The relationship between Kise and Takao’s closets was a strained, largely one-sided one. All Takao’s closet could remember doing for all the few months they’d been together was giving. All that it could afford, it gave selflessly, to the point it felt almost empty inside, with less and less color in its life, or on its hangers for that.

Kise’s closet on the other hand, received. It would’ve given if it could, but there was just so much it chose to reserve for itself. Of course there was meaningful exchange between the two, after all there was a basis for their relationship, and much was riding on them getting along with one another.

Such as late-waking mornings where Takao was thankful he’d thought to stash a set of his Kaijou jersey at Kise’s. Even the two of them knew that extra laps would be issued if they dared to  _both_  turn up wearing the number 7 jersey during regular practice, nevermind a practice match in Tokyo.

Even so, Saturday mornings just didn’t seem right for waking up early. At first they both groggily woke to the confusion of why Kise’s alarm clock was going off. It took snoozing the contraption for an hour before  _Get’cha Head in the Game_  choked the leash on them falling back under, and dragged them straight into the shithouse. Hanging up his phone after giving the bimbo twins a wakeup call, Kasamatsu let out a sigh mixed with many things, none of which pleasant. It took awhile, but at that point the captain just knew better than to leave those two to their own devices.

“Kazucchi hurry up!!” The blond squealed, stumbling around his room stuffing things into his sports bag.

"Don’t get your panties in a twist, Ryou-chan-"

"We’re gonna be late!!!"

"I’m hurrying, I’m hurrying- fuck where did my deodorant go."

"KAZUCCHI, now we ARE late!!!!"

"You owe me a new can-"

"I’LL BUY YOU THREE, LATER!! JUST COME ON BEFORE KASAMATSU-SENPAI LOPS OUR HEADS OFF!!!!!"

—-

They made it just as the bus rolled into the school grounds; Kise, first to appear, absorbed the brunt of Kasamatsu’s deadly kick, following which the duo endured a generous earful from their disgruntled commander on the bus. With all the second-hand noise pollution the rest of the team awkwardly endured, they quickly decided that a round of drink treating was in order.

Kise had never been told much about Shuutoku, and never really cared enough to go find out either. Though, if it was anything befitting of his eccentric ex-teammate, it was bound to be stuffed to the rafters with kooks and loonies who drew magic circles in basements and practiced apparition in the schoolyards. To his thinking, there was no other school that Midorima could’ve applied to other than Hogwarts.

Ergo, he found himself rather at loss when their bus went through not a drawbridge over a moat, but a schoolgate so old and decrepit that it needed to be dragged open, manually, by the equally ancient looking guard.

Takao, for some strange reason, seemed just as phased as he had been when they left Kanagawa; not at all.

Kise knew there ought to have been a reason why his normally energetic friend would suddenly be  _that_  sluggish in the morning. Sure enough, searching through the guy’s phone browser history (while Takao slept on the bus) had already told him all he needed to know. In that hindsight, he supposed he should have guessed when those tapping sounds continued into the a.m. hours.

It took a pretty good look around the place for them to be reminded that, yes, Kaijou was one of the more privileged schools around. Facilities in Shuutoku were functional, but that was probably the best that could be said about them.

A sharp glare from Kasamatsu, however, promised a swift and prejudiced decimation of their highschool lives if they dared so much as peep on that effect. The team was immediately intimidated into unquestioning compliance.

Kise shifted his attention to his best friend, walking next to the boy who remained uncharacteristically silent. A subtle smile tugged at his lips, the blond turning back to Kasamatsu, who was leading the congregation into the further reaches of the school. Specifically, towards the gym that looked like an abandoned aircraft hanger.

Even from well outside the building they could already hear the squeak of gym shoes on parquet, and angry barking that, even through the closed gym doors, made most of them mysteriously terrified.

Noticing his friend’s nerves, Kise nudged the shorter boy reassuringly. “You’ll know him when you see him Kazucchi, he’s huge.”

“Yeah? In what way.” It took all of two blinks for Kise to detect the sarcasm there.

“Fast aren’t we.”

“Luck favors the prepared Ryou chan.” At that they shared a quick fistbump, and, Takao drawing a deep breath, stepped through the creaky gym doors.

The condition most of Shuutoku’s equipment was in would’ve probably warranted a one-way ticket straight out to the pasture in their school, but remembering Kasamatsu’s pride-sealed promise of maiming upon comment kept the team silent. The home team in white and orange paused for all of half a second before they were snarled back into passing practice by the voice of an angel, provided said angel’s name was Lucifer. “And if I catch any of you even taking an extra breath you’re packing the gym up alone!”

The entire Kaijou cohort made subtle note to avoid the snappy blond with a PMS worthy of 20 seasons of America’s Next Top Model. He, along with a blocky giant that outstripped even Kobori, stepped forward to greet their guests, with all the standoff-ish formality of a Yakuza boss and his wife.

“Kasamatsu, it’s been awhile.” Ootsubo smiled subtly, taking the shorter captain’s hand. “You already know Miyaji.”

“Unfortunately,” Takao whispered, earning himself a nudge and suppressed snicker from Kise.

The lit fuse gave a nod and a grunt, eyeing the opponents’ point guard in-training with considerable ire. Every so often his eyes darted back to their own team for spot checks. Kasamatsu let out a small chuckle, shaking Miyaji’s hand as well. “Well then, I suppose we’d better get ready and warmed up. Don’t go easy on us.”

Ootsubou gestured towards the locker rooms. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Takao, hawk-eyes already scanning the gym, found himself in something of a stump as he spotted even towel lint by the benches, but no 195cm tall bespectacled figure with comically green hair and anything that seemed like a lucky item. As they filed out of the gym to the locker rooms, Kise immediately tackled his friend’s distress.

“He isn’t here is he.” The blond sighed, setting his bag down on a wooden bench and stripping off.

“You know that as well as I do.” Takao snuffed, still trying (badly) to play it off as nothing. The age of the gym and thinness of the walls soon became all too apparent when a booming voice made it sound, and feel, like a car-bomb had detonated in the next room.

“MIDORIMA, GET FUCKING CHANGED, NOW.”

“Selfish request number 1 of today.”

“I DON’T GIVE A RAT’S ASS.”

The Kaijou team, well versed in responding to earthquakes, huddled near the lockers and cabinets until dust stopped falling from the ceiling. Getting back up on his feet, Takao pat himself down with a huff. “Guy needs to pop a chill pill.”

Kasamatsu, Moriyama and Kobori shrugged it off; apparently handling nuclear weapons was something that came naturally with practice.

Kise’s mood conspicuously took a sharp 180’ for the better, and morning wet market began as usual while the bimbo twins prepped for showtime.

“I guess that means Midorimacchi’s here~”

“Oh wow, I never would have guessed.” Takao quickly decided that there was much more than a teammate reunion driving his friend’s enthusiasm. Though, as much as he struggled for it not to show, Takao could feel the tension in his legs and fingers, endorphins already beginning to rush through his body.

From basketball, for shame.

When the team, in their away jerseys (thankfully for Takao, void of a duplicate number 7 jersey) lined up in the gym, the home team was already waiting, with the exception of their newly acquired golden boy, still fussing at the benches. It didn’t take Takao’s hawk eyes to see Miyaji was about to go off like a 21 gun salute.

When finally Midorima aligned his lucky item to magnetic North and joined the ranks, the raven-haired boy had to lower his head to hide a giggle. Kise had been dead on the money; somewhere between pissed off, constipated and intense was indeed how Midorima perpetually looked. The blond knowingly elbowed his friend in vain efforts to drag him back into the solemn mood of competition, a stifled smirk contorting the edge of his own lips.

A loud and neat greeting towards the opposing teams declared the match a go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #oh no this isn't the end #it's merely the beginning #the start of something new #we're still playing basketball don't worry


	4. Chapter the Second (Part ii): In which zero shits were given for bad analogies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hooking up, eye candy, sweetheart. And pretty asses on the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kanoe: This fic flows just about as well as a clogged drain.  
> Kitska: We weren’t quite aiming for a linear fic.  
> Kanoe: Kinda just throwing shit out.  
> Kitska: and now that shit is rad.
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** Yeah, an ACTUAL disclaimer. We, combined, know less than shit about B-ball or any sport for that matter so, to the people who actually play, you’re right; we don’t know what we’re doing.
> 
> [edit] totally missed out on the first part orz

—-

There was no complaining on Takao’s side when he found himself benched at the start; Kasamatsu had already informed him, awhile ago, that he was bound to go out at least once in this match. They had however, both agreed that Kasamatsu’s turn as Point Guard might give the neophyte some time to observe; heaven knew he was good at that much.

Though, his attention wasn’t so much on the match as it was on the person whom he now knew was the Shuutoku shooting guard. The yellow luggage case sitting on the benches also told Takao that for one, Kise had been right about the guy being a complete nutter, and for two, he was a Cancer. Not that Takao was suggesting he’d looked up and memorized the whole list on the bus or anything.

Just like he’d been in the candid photo of Kise’s darling Aomine, Midorima had on a much more intense look while in play, the bandages had been removed from his hand too. Kise hadn’t been exaggerating; Takao didn’t have an established hand fetish or the likes, but _damn_.

Back to the game, he sternly reminded himself.

It seemed the home team was playing defense primarily, most of their manpower focused on the home half, barr a point guard and that snappy blond who were more actively going between both sides. They’d sicced their power forward on Kise, proof if anything of their defense position. It was interesting though, watching Kise picking out various talents and abilities to copy. Already he could tell his friend had sights aptly set on the small forward’s street-style dribbling. With a little smile he wondered how long it’d take for the Shuutoku team to catch on-

Except, he surmised, Midorima had probably told them as much already.

Though, there was something rather odd. It seemed as if though Midorima had been holding back on purpose. Kasamatsu was marking him alright, but there just didn’t seem to be much to mark at all bar the occasional sure-sink 3-pointer. Even so, Kise seemed to be stiffly on guard, keeping a keen eye on both the opponent’s small forward and his own former teammate.

The good thing about having hawk eyes was little tidbits like catching the pissed-off look on Miyaji’s face when Kise passed him using a dribble the senior himself had used mere minutes ago.

After a quarter or so of relatively little fanfare, Kaijou seemed to be at a decided advantage; or so they thought, until Miyaji, Shuutoku in offense, passed the ball behind him while shouting out for their golden boy. The next thing they knew, as if the green-haired boy hadn’t even paused to aim at all, there was a blur of orange tracing a graceful arc through the air from the mid-court line, and sinking through the basket as swiftly and concisely as a judge’s gavel on the sound block.

Kise winced as the rest of the Kaijou playing members, particularly Moriyama, stopped cold in their tracks just as the buzzer concluded quarter one.

During the two-minute break they had to dissolve their shock, most of their ire was flung in Kise’s direction.

“Well I _did_ say his shots were really accurate didn’t I?!?” The blond protested in vain, Takao toweling his poor friend down while handing him a water bottle like a female fan.

Moriyama pointed to the basketball still rolling lazily off the court, fresh out of Midorima’s hands. “Kise… _That_ , for your information, is _beyond_ just accurate. The guy’s insane. Not all shooting guards can just go ahead and do that you know.”

Teammates knew shit had hit the fans when Moriyama was being stern with even his ticket to hooking up with the high-class ladies. Kise hunched into a ball while Kasamatsu peeled the others off him and barked at people to hurry and get rested up. “I’m sorry I’m sorry!! I’d only ever played tournaments with Midorimacchi before so I thought it wasn’t a big deal!!”

Moriyama rolled his eyes, pinching his brow and looking as if he’d just been socked in the face. “You.” The shooting guard eventually grinded out through his teeth, turning away to prepare himself. “YOU sir, are amazingly dense.”

With the rest of their teammates scattering to quickly cool down and rest up before quarter two, Takao sat himself heavily on the bench next to his friend, laying a hand on the blond’s heaving back. Kise peered over at the shorter boy, smiling a little as he silently appreciated the gesture.

“Girl. You done fucked up.”

“TSK. Shut up Kazucchi!!”

—-

The moment the second quarter began, it became all too apparent that, yes, Shuutoku had been holding back in the beginning. Passes were flowing to Midorima from all directions, and score after score sunk home with a sort of sure-fire faithfulness that precipitated dread in the away team. Not to say that Kaijou was having their asses handed to them; they were formidable in their own respect, having made the decision to focus on chasing back points during offense rather than brooding too hard over defending against Midorima’s incredible shots. Not to mention the little reserve weapon still waiting, unassuming and innocuous, on the sidelines.

Halftime saw Hayakawa agonizing all too loudly about Midorima’s shots directly meaning he didn’t have any rebounds to muscle his way through. Moriyama, once Hayakawa had beaten his way through the primary defenses, proved useful against the opposing center, and Kasamatsu had been marking Miyaji.

Takao was nearly vibrating when the team captain finally nodded him over for the huddle.

“Alright Takao, see what you needed to see?”

 _‘Yeah, eye candy. Just wish I had a camera.’_  If Takao had been bracing for a snide comment along those lines from Kise, it never came. One of the things about best friends in competitive sports.

“I have a few things in mind.”

Halftime over, and the lineup had changed a little on both sides. Both teams had switched their point guards, and Kaijou had substituted Moriyama with Nakamura; which, to the team, meant offense was sidelining for the time being, with defense stepping up to the plate; how ironic. One foot on court was all it took for Takao to feel a little woozy, his hawk eyes uncontrollably drifting in Midorima’s direction despite himself.

“I’m gonna need some time Kazucchi, but I think it’s gonna work.” Kise smiled, sharing a fist bump with his friend as they prepared for second half.

During the course of play, Midorima seemed to be progressively making his shots from further and further back, with Kaijou focusing their efforts on blocking off all passes going to the shooting guard. Kise, with the occasional taunt and tease, was doing his job of marking Midorima, along with other things.

Midorima, thick as he was inclined to be, noticed a little something. Every time he made another successful shot from those unbelievable distances, an unassuming, black-haired boy would be sharing a subtle look with Kise. Not to mention there was something about that point guard that unnerved Midorima. Those eyes of his seemed to take in everything; throughout the time he was in play, not one pass reached Midorima through the person Takao was marking.

The third quarter passed with Shuutoku a little further in the lead. Thankfully, upon returning to the benches, Kise gave both the captain and his best friend a thumbs up and wink, leading to the entire Kaijou team’s spirits lifting visibly.

The Kaijou lineup changed once again when the 4th quarter began, with Moriyama switching out his junior. Shuutoku on the other hand, sent out the same players. Takao eyed his friend, then turning back to give Midorima a smirk; one the tall boy apparently acknowledged with a slightly raised eyebrow. “You ready for this Ryou chan? Kazu chan has some skills, hope you can keep up.”

With a snort, a very pretty snort mind you, Kise wiped his brow one last time and threw down his towel on the bench. “Way ahead of you sweetheart, don’t leave me hanging.”

Shuutoku had been expecting offense when Nakamura switched out; but what then began between the previously unassuming point guard and the opponent’s small forward was even slightly intimidating. Midorima had already caught on that there was something going on with those two, but he’d never figured it’d have been Kise copying him,  _him_ , and then cooperating with the point guard in ways that Midorima found both infuriating and oddly inspiring.

Takao, rapidly taking in information from all over the court, dodged every loophole and obstacle, nabbing the ball and making perfect pass after pass to Kise, who then sunk it home like a seasoned shooter. The opposing team was still making progress; after all, less attention was being paid to hindering their golden boy. But, the difference was shrinking at a rate that lit a fire under the Shuutoku team.

With less than a minute to the end of the game, Ootsubo called for time out, with the score at Kaijou leading by a fragile, single point.

"All we need to do is keep them from scoring anymore." Ootsubo summarized, the rest nodding in agreement. "As for offense, we’ll have to leave it to Midorima, and focus everyone else on defense. We can’t afford to let them score again, even once."

The shooting guard nodded in a rare moment of compliance.

"Kimura, think you can do something about that small forward?" Miyaji heaved, mopping sweat from his eyes. "I’ll take care of the loud guy, and it’ll be our point guard against theirs."

"Do whatever it takes to keep that power forward away from the net.” Ootsubo nodded. “And I guess that leaves me to handle the center as usual." Time was ticking, with mere moments to spare, the team turned to their new ace. "Midorima, can you do it?"

"I’ve done everything I need to prepare; it will not miss."

"Better not." Miyaji grunted, and the huddle disassembled.

The positions were clear; no change on either side. Kaijou was going to play the Takao and Kise card with all it was worth, and Shuutoku was adamant on preventing them from doing just that.

Immediately Takao and Kise found themselves cornered and edged apart. The struggle to keep the score even lasted for second after precious second, till the away team finally broke through for a precious one shot.

A rebound; which Kobori and Ootsubo both leapt for while Miyaji kept Hayakawa at bay. But if it was down to sheer endurance at the end of the game, Shuutoku’s training regimes from hell were nothing to sniff at.

Takao, seizing the opportunity, broke through Miyaji’s defense and made a run for the thick of battle under the net; all he needed to do was knock it away from the opposing team. The ball passed into a waiting Midorima’s hands just as the clocked ticked down to the final 4 seconds.

The point guard seized; there was nothing he could do against those impossible shots. But, this was the other end of the court. Surely it was impossible, even for this monster, right?

T minus 2; in his split second of hesitation, the ball left Midorima’s perfectly poised hands. For inexplicable reasons, the shooting guard’s impeccable form right in front of his eyes made him feel weak to the knees and he buckled, legs giving out under him just as Midorima landed back on the parquet.

Everyone else kept their eyes on the ball, their eyes intently following the deciding shot. Not Midorima though; the one person who ought to have been most nervous, on contrary, seemed entirely relaxed. That confidence was both intimidating as nothing Takao had ever experienced before, and… Incredibly,  _incredibly_  sexy. Midorima, noticing the person crumpled on the ground below him, merely let out a  _hmph_ , lifting a hand to adjust his glasses, eyes slanted down at the shorter boy.

Takao, mouth gaping, stayed understandably silent as the buzzer went off. Following which he let loose, loud enough for even the supervising teachers to hear.

“Holy shit, I want your cum in my ass.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #no we seriously don't know shit about basketball #we tried our best though #it's still crack #and that's all there is you need to know


	5. Chapter the Third: In which everyone uses iPhones because we say so

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Social butterfly, supermodel diet, alligator slap. Takao hunts down arousal faeries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kanoe: Humor me, describe this fic in 3 words or less.  
> Kitska: Crack on pot.  
> Kanoe: Such generic. Ask me ask me.  
> Kitska: Ok I’ll humor you.  
> Kanoe: Need better hobbies.  
> Kitska: fffftttt  
> Kanoe: BA DUM TSSSS.
> 
> COMES WITH PEEKCHURS OMG H O V E R T E X T

\---

When you’re dead, you never know that you’re dead. It’s only difficult for the others.

Sadly, it’s the same when you’re stupid.

The remainder of the entire team stared in shock and horror, as Takao sat his pretty ass on the floor of the decrepit Shuutoku gym that echoed even deafening silence.

There was a smooth shwoop of a basketball sinking through the hoop on the far end of the court, followed by the crisp thud of rubber on parquet as it bounced, unattended, and slowly rolled off to the sidelines.

If Midorima’s face had opinions, it would have declined interviews; however, if it absolutely needed a description, he was catatonic with bewilderment, brows even further knit than they had been when he realized Kise was choice-picking abilities off their team with all the casual ease of grocery shopping. His eyes were wide with shock, body stiff and leaning at a subtle angle away from the much shorter boy on the floor. If he didn’t have his reputation as a stone cold, hard-chiseled, austere motherfucker to keep up, he’d probably have considered fainting as an option.

If this had been some ploy at intimidation, it would’ve worked a lot better if the game hadn’t already ended in Shuutoku’s victory. Kasamatsu took a full 5 seconds to process what had just happened before calling for Takao to immediately get the fuck off the court (and away from Midorima’s pants). The look on the point guard's face was a horrible mix of lust and awe, and if Takao had a sliver of decency left he'd know better than to stay rooted to the spot.

He didn’t; but that didn’t stop Midorima from immediately stalking off the court, his face about as red as it had been the last time he hit a rim.

No one made a single comment when both Takao and Midorima were absent from the end-game salutations. 

Formalities were an awkward wreck between Kasamatsu, Ootsubo and a boiling-over Miyaji that lasted for about as long as the average mosquito bite, following which the visiting team was very silently escorted back to their bus. 

Truthfully, Kise and Takao had intended to treat their teammates to a round of drinks; but vending machines weren’t a common sight in Shuutoku, and no one quite wanted to go ask the home team for some reason. What that ultimately meant, was the Kaijou team flocking to the conbini nearest to their school once they returned to Kanagawa, sipping drinks and eating ice cream while walking back to school for a post mortem. Though, as much as they did try to focus on the game, no one could really stop sending the occasional stare, followed by mental facepalm, at Takao.

With a loud cough, Kasamatsu dragged everyone’s attention back to the discussion. “Bottom line being, the combination worked just as we’d hoped, and everyone else did well too. For the freshmen, this is a taste of what a competitive match feels like. Be on your guard, it’s only the beginning. Dismissed!”

Takao, hawk eyes on high alert, was only too aware of all the covert glances and sniggers sent in his direction. Next to him, Kise stripped off his top and let out a long sigh. “Kazucchi I knew you were getting it pretty bad for Midorimacchi but, really?”

The reaction was less than a single blink from the point guard. “Man I wanna hide forever in the shadows of his lower lashes.”

“... That’s just wrong. Jeez Kazucchi, couldn’t you have held it in your pants for another 5 minutes? Now I gotta go apologize to him and all.”

With that, Takao’s eyes twinkled. Of course, they’d been in middle school together. With Kise being the social butterfly he was, it was impossible for him not to have that stud’s phone number at the bare minimum. 

Kise peered over and saw that contemplating look; it did not inspire confidence. “Kazucchi can I like, not? For reals. I can’t deal with Midorimacchi.”

Takao had the audacity to blink, innocently. “I didn’t say anything yet.”

With a pout, Kise reconciled himself to removing his phone from his pocket. “You might as well have.”

“Thanks for volunteering then. Oh and, you still owe me 3 cans of deodorant.”

Kasamatsu decided he’d chosen the wrong time to pass by the bimbo twins. “Where’d that come from.”

“Ahaha… Senpai please don’t ask...”

\---

That evening saw Takao once again at Kise’s, the two snuggled up in post-shower warmth, some vegetable juice from the carton, and a movie they weren’t really paying attention to.

“You doing it yet?” Takao murmured lazily, regretting not remembering to buy and bring his own drinks. If there was one thing he didn’t like about bunking at Kise’s, it was the supermodel diet. A whine of both irritation and subtle disdain greeted Takao, who quietly went back to Million Arthur.

“Midorimacchi isn’t replying...” Kise frowned at his phone, which may have looked cute if it weren’t for the pink patch of velcro holding his hair out of his face... Which had a deep cleansing mask on it.

“I’m a patient guy Ryou chan."

“Says the one who couldn’t keep it in his pants for 5 minutes.”

Takao looked up from his faerie battle; the ‘keeping it in your pants’ thing was getting decidedly old. “For your info, I kept it in my pants; just not my mouth.”

“Oooh innuendo overload there Kazucchi.” Facepalm; he’d been wrong to hope that Kise was above that level of cheap thrills. They both took a moment to, though barely, acknowledge the pile of homework spread out on Kise’s table.

Kise, peeling the mask from his face, frankly wasn’t used to having people ignore his carefully crafted texts; but he hadn’t gotten so much as a peep out of his ex teammate for the past few hours. No matter how much he willed his phone to bleep, there was no response from his friend’s less-than-secret crush. Even the ex-captain had been summoned to confirm the number was legit.

“Gaaah that’s it! I’ve had enough of this.” The taller boy groaned, nudging his friend’s attention away from the game. Why don’t I just give you his number and YOU deal with him?“

Of all things, Kise didn’t expect Takao to drop his phone in shock. In sharp contrast to the person who’d pretty much demanded sex from a stranger, the raven-haired boy spluttered while staring back at his friend, face going red again after having finally cooled down from his shower.

The next 5 minutes were a rowdy tussle with the two boys jumping around Kise’s room trying to pillow-fight for possession over the blond’s phone. Height advantages were fully utilized, with an extra overtime struggle of 60 seconds while Kise fussed over selecting and inputting the perfect emoji.

While they both recuperated from the unsuccessful coup, neither expected Kise’s phone to bleep as fast as it did; practically instantaneously.

The response was simple, precise, and rather appropriate coming from someone who’d been alligator slapped by a sperm donation request.

The blond did take a second or two to feel hurt, but was back in high spirits the moment he remembered he’d just relinquished wingman duty. Wearing a shit-eating grin that may well have been copied from one of Aomine’s photos, he turned back to his friend. “Go on, text him, you totally want to.”

“Smooth, real smooth.” Takao nodded while giving his friend a slap on the shoulder. “Lest we forget, I don’t have his number.”

That same shit-eating grin in place, Kise’s eyes narrowed in glee. “Really now?”

Takao knew that their captain would vehemently deny this, but Kise was no idiot. The rather concerned point guard immediately flipped out his contacts list, and, after a minute or two of scrolling, found what he’d been looking for.

He looked back at the blond, who seemed to have been waiting for this very moment. “When was this.” He sighed in surrender, leaning heavily back against the pillows now strewn all over the room from their previous struggle.

“I will never tell.”

Takao hesitated, finger hovering over the message button while he played through all the worst case-scenarios in his mind. Restraining orders, blocked phone numbers, police reports; stuff that Takao, and to a larger extent, Kise, more commonly found themselves issuing rather than receiving. Kise rolled his eyes; he’d never have thought Takao would be one to pussyfoot even after being nudged this far. “Come on, just text him it won’t be a big deal! Look, if you’re not going to, then I will.”

The next thing he knew, he had a phone practically flung in his face. After a few seconds, the phone returned to its’ owner, Takao now staring at what was pretty much a one-way ticket to stalkerhood.

Understandably, the addressee never did reply that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #yeah well i like playing million arthur #it's a fun game #okay so maybe i play it for the seiyuu #because there's mamotan and kamiyan
> 
> ((Note: If you know where that quote in the beginning came from, good for you. We don’t care.))


	6. Chapter the Fourth: In which Takao mails his underwear.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Old fart, special snowflake, male biology. Makoto is definitely a girl’s name.

—-

Kise ought to have expected it when his phone exploded with texts, really.

"I mean who else wakes up at 6am like an old fart every single morning? Jeez that guy." The blond went on as he’d been doing for the last hour or so, complaining about the barrage of texts that was responsible for him not filling his nightly 8-hour sleep quota. "Then he goes and blames me for everything, but when I ask what happened, guy shuts up!! Won’t tell me anything!!"

"Shoulda asked him sooner then." Takao muttered, nonchalantly enough to make it look as if he wasn’t the sole instigator of this mess. Kise, however, was fully aware of that fact. If nothing else, the glare he sent Takao’s way was proof enough that Takao’s passive demeanor wasn’t fooling him. “By the way… I know you didn’t get your stipulated 8-hours of beauty snoozing but… Did you really need to put on makeup? To school?”

“I have an image to upkeep Kazucchi.” Was the breezy reply, Kise patting his cheeks to freshen up. Following the dainty gesture though, he swung back onto his friend, prodding the shorter boy repeatedly in the collarbones. “Now spill it, what’d you do this time?”

Hands in the air, Takao shrugged as far as he could without risking a jab to the jugular. “Nothing much. Just mailed him my underwear.”

“…. That’s totes gross Kazucchi.”

“I caught that smirk, slut. Don’t even try to hide it.”

Naturally, Midorima wasn’t quite as upbeat about the issue as they were. In the Midorima family dining room after breakfast, Shintarou’s younger sister noticed smoke rising from the ground in the backyard, and slid open the glass door to her older brother, attempting nonchalance. There he stood, rake in hand, standing in the far corner tapping his feet and looking positively scandalized.

“… Niichan? What’re you doing?”

“Burning leaves.” He muttered under his breath, shifting uncomfortably as his sister’s eyes narrowed. His gakuran jacket was slung over his chair back in the dining room to prevent a pleasant infusion of eau de mailed-underwear.

The girl couldn’t help a dainty giggle; it was always fun slowly pushing her brother into fessing up. “Niichan it’s August.”

With an annoyed click of his tongue, he quickly tossed even more crumpled newspaper to the burning pile, muttering for it to go faster. “Be quiet, Makoto. Go back inside.”

“Yanno just because you didn’t score full marks doesn’t mean you need to burn them.” She sighed, leaning on the doorframe while her brother vengefully poked the burning pile of weeds and paper with the rake. “Was it literature again?”

He hushed the girl with an annoyed grunt. “Be quiet and go back inside. And whatever you do, don’t tell mom and-”

“MOM, DAD, BONFIRE. AGAIN.”

Within the minute, Shintarou’s father switched off the hose, the flames going out with defeated, strangled sputters, not at all dissimilar to the protests dying on Shintarou’s tongue.

With a sigh, the head of the Midorima household prodded at the smouldering, sodden pile with the rake Shintarou had been using. The moment he caught a single glimpse of the artifact, however, he silently gestured for his wife to take their daughter and go inside.

“Shintarou, it would seem that we need to talk.”

With a sigh, Shintarou followed his dad into the living room, just as his mother bid Makoto a good day at school, and left the household herself with a shopping bag in hand. The boy juggled mixed feelings, wondering if perhaps this was finally his chance to take action. His chance to perhaps have someone he trusted to intervene, or at least talk about the blatant harassment he’d been subject to ever since the practice match with Kaijou.

Solemnly, he followed his father’s’ example in sitting at the dining table, still staring at his fingers curled tightly in his lap, trying to piece everything together and present his case.

His father merely watched, expression solemn, letting out a sigh when his son seemed too deeply stuck in his emotional conflict. “Shintarou, I know it seems like something difficult to talk about, but you’re a grown man now, so I just want you to know this is completely normal.”

Shintarou’s eyes flew wide open in shock. Hesitantly, he leaned forward. “I-It is?”

His father nodded, grasping his hands together in front of him on the table. “Don’t worry. It’s all part of growing up. There’s nothing to be ashamed of, every man goes through it.”

The boy blinked, he’d had no idea whatsoever. Especially with the way everyone else on the team had acted, he’d been thinking all along that Takao was wired inside out as a child. Why then, he wondered, did his seniors make it seem like such a big deal? Was it the markedly different upbringings? Kaijou did seem to have a more open-minded sort of culture, what with that special snowflake Kise being allowed to wear an earring to school. He let out a sigh he didn’t remember holding, glancing away. “I had no idea. I thought I was the only one who’d go through such… Such disgusting things.”

The Midorima father figure turned down to his interlocked fingers, expression relaxed but pensive. “No, not at all. Rest assured, it’s all part and parcel of male biology.”

Feeling the air returning to his lungs, Shintarou raised a hand to his forehead, kneading between his eyes as he pondered the whole thing once more. As outrageous and ridiculous as it had intuitively seemed, perhaps he was the one being paranoid over nothing.

That thought in mind, he recalled how Kise had repeatedly reassured him that this Takao fellow wasn’t a bad sort of character. Once that went down, the follow-up was feeling the anxious guilt of having exploded at Kise that morning.

Standing, Shintarou thanked his father, who offered to drive him to school. Once he’d gathered his gakuran jacket and shrugged it on, his father gave him a generous clap on the back.

“Just, know this. Next time that sort of thing happens, you just need to wash your underwear, not burn it.”

“Wh-My…?” The boy spluttered, staring at his father with his brows locked in a frown of their own. “But it’s not, I mean…”

“Come now Shintarou, you’re old enough to wash your own underwear aren’t you?” His father added, unaware of the crack in the dam of Midorima’s coursing thoughts. “It’s a bit messy but don’t worry. You’ll grow out of it in a couple of years. Must be good to be young, eh?” That, and a good-natured chuckle later, his father retrieved the car keys from the door, shouting back into the house for Shintarou to meet him in the car outside.

Frozen in the middle of the living room, however, Midorima was in no mood to do anything remotely of the sort.

Takao supposed he’d been naive to hope Kise would drop the whole underwear thing at least during practice. On the bright side, he had lasted about 5 minutes before jabbing Takao in the ribs sniggering just a bit too gleefully. “I’ll bet he burned it, he always did that to test papers and stuff he wasn’t happy with. Guy’s got issues expressing himself I’m telling you.”

No sooner had that left Kise’s lips, Moriyama very casually sat down next to them pretending to check under his nails. Noticing that neither of his juniors said a word, he looked up, still feigning nonchalance. “So… Any updates on the Shuutoku guy thing?”

“Not really.”

Kise probably shouldn’t have sniggered as loudly as he did, drawing attention from even more corners of the gym. “Kazucchi, it’s not nice to lie.”

“Yep. But it’s so nice to secretly draw glitter glue hearts all over phot-” The rest of that sentence, and a venomous “Ow bitch” were muffled by the hand Kise had smacked over his friend’s face. But it was too late, Moriyama had picked up a scent trail of juicy info.

“Oh? I take it Kise has a girl then?” Their senior probed, cat-eyed and curious. Kise gave a faint laugh and dismissive wave of his hand.

“One hell of a ‘girl’…” Takao mumbled, massaging his sore face; Kise shot him down with a caustic glare.

“One word, Kazucchi. One word and you’re dead.”

**Author's Note:**

> #sorry not sorry #this is inspired by a pixiv comic strip where takao was in touou #and he's headoverheels obsessed with midorima of shuutoku #i'll probably insert the link to the comic strip in the next chapter #maybe idk


End file.
